


Often, I am Upset

by ZadieWrites



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur and Morgana as siblings, Arthur’s 17 in this one, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Non Consensual Haircuts, Mentions of Violence, Pre-Canon, Sibling Relationship, hair cutting, warning: mention of violence against a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25971106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZadieWrites/pseuds/ZadieWrites
Summary: A teenage Arthur just was in a fight with a group of bandits, who decided it was a good idea to cut his hair, after roughing him up a bit. Arthur is devastated of course, and went to the only person he trusts to see him in this state: his sister, Morgana. Morgana cuts his hair to make it even again, as they make angsty chatter. That’s it. This is shameless hurt/comfort.
Relationships: Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Often, I am Upset

**Author's Note:**

> One thing I noticed about me post-Ao3 account is I apparently like hair fluff way more than I thought I liked hair fluff. I recently fell into the Merlin fandom and I adore Arthur and Morgana’s sibling dynamic and I had to write a thing on it, using some of my favorite hurt/comfort tropes.

Morgana heard a knock on the wooden door. She strode across her chamber, slippers softly tapping against the stone floor, and opened the door. The steel hinge shrieked in protest. Damn, she needed to get that fixed.

Her adoptive brother stood there with dirt on his face and his bottom lip cut open. This was nothing new but then she noticed his thick, honey blonde hair, which he took great pride in, was cut in uneven, and rather unattractive chunks. 

Morgana could have sworn his bright blue eyes were shining a bit more than usual, and she didn’t think it was from the torchlight. 

“Arthur-“ she sighed, stepping back to let the prince in. “What was it over this time?” 

He stepped inside, gruffly, slamming the heavy, oak door behind him. “It doesn’t matter. Can you fix this?” He questioned, gesturing to his hair.

“Yes . . . though you know your father will want to know what happened. You never cut your hair that short.” She remarked. 

“I’ll figure out something.”

After a long pause of the two just standing there, from each side of the room, Morgana let out a little, conceding sigh. 

“I’ll go get some shears.” She said, retreating to do just that.

After the King’s Ward returned with a pair of iron shears she put a hand on Arthur’s broad shoulder. He was only 17 and already rife with muscle. “Kneel down. You’re too tall.” She told him.

He did as she said, his knees dropping to the tile. 

Morgana examined his hair. It was in bad shape, some parts cut almost to the scalp, others left long, others cut jaggedly halfway. It would be a difficult job to even it but not impossible. She ran her long fingers through it. It was still impossibly soft, even with grime from the fight through it. That was another thing. Arthur was filthy. His face and his hair and his clothes had spots of grey dust and black mud splattering it.

The King’s son frequently found himself in fights, and he’d been in worse shape before . . . but very rarely. She specifically remembered a time a man was locked up, for months, for breaking Arthur’s wrist. 

“You can’t go around fighting everyone you meet.” Morgana informed him, gently as she made the first snip.

Hair fell to the ground like the feathers of a golden dove. 

“I don’t do it on purpose . . .” He cocked his head. “Not most of the time. Most of the time they provoke me.”

“How did they provoke you this time?” 

“They called me . . . pretty. And weak. And spoiled.”

Snip. She cut again.

“Who did?” She questioned.

“A group of bandits that hate nobility. I tried to fight them but I was alone and outnumbered. . . they managed to trap me on the ground and they . . . cut my hair with their knives.” Arthur admitted. He seemed ashamed they were able to achieve this task.

Snip.

“. . . I’m sorry.” She said, softly.

Snip.

“Just . . . you can’t tell anyone this happened. Please.” He responded. 

Snip.

“I won’t . . . I promise.”

Snip.

“Do you think it’s funny? That this happened?”

Snip.

“You know I don’t, Arthur. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come to me.” 

Snip.

This was followed by several minutes of silence, interrupted only momentarily by the gentle snipping of the shears as more hair was cut. Hair fell onto the floor, on Arthur’s shoulders, on his thighs. She was having to cut it quite close, to make it even again.

The future prince trusted her, and sometimes it was as if she was the only person he trusted, as his teenage years had stressed the relationship between him and his father. Arthur didn’t allow himself to have true friends, that was just how he was. Whether that was because he was uncomfortable with the power difference, or because he felt used in every friendship, or some other reason, she didn’t know. He liked the guard, and the knights, she knew that, but he didn’t trust them the same way.

At the very least he trusted Morgana enough to let her see him tear up even if he’d reject any accusations he did so, which was unique to them. 

The trust went both ways, though. Any time Morgana was in a difficult situation, Arthur was normally the person she went to.

“Are you almost finished?” Arthur questioned, impatiently, breaking the silence.

“Give me a minute . . . it’s not a problem with a quick fix.” 

He turned his head to look back at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “It’s that bad?”

“I’m afraid they did quite a number on you.” The ward commented, continuing to snip.

“Dammit . . .”

Snip.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the girls will still call you handsome.” She assured him.

Snip.

“That’s not what I’m concerned about! It was a part of me and it was taken from me . . . even temporarily.” 

Snip.

She nodded, sympathetically, and this was followed by more continued silence. 

Finally, she was satisfied with her work. It looked relatively even, and there was blonde hair all over the floor of her chambers. His hair was significantly shorter, cut very close to the scalp, so he just had a layer of golden fuzz.

She could see the shine in his eyes return when he looked in a mirror and he muttered a, “Thank you.” Knowing this was all he could hope for. 

His confidence would be reduced for a while and then it would grow back. And then he’d be back to his arrogant self. Arthur bounced back from everything. That was both the beauty and the curse of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, criticism, constructive or otherwise is unwelcome on this one. I’m just having fun.


End file.
